


Camp [Appropriated First Nation Name Redacted]

by Corvin



Series: Harringrove Camp [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Chubby Billy, Fluff, Gangly Steve, M/M, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Secret Relationship, Sharing Clothes, Smart Billy Hargrove, Steve isn't dumb, Summer Camp AU, Summer Love, Young Billy Hargrove, Young Steve Harrington, just needs things explained to him, mildly open ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19480048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvin/pseuds/Corvin
Summary: Steve's dad pays his way into a camp for smart kids. He doesn't get the extra education his parents hoped for, but he does find his first love.





	Camp [Appropriated First Nation Name Redacted]

**Author's Note:**

> Not proofread

Before it was called Camp Know Where, it was named after some random Native American term that was probably misspelled, and definitely offensive in its paraphernalia. Not that Steve Harrington realized as much when he got off the bus. 

He’d been sent to plenty of camps before, once he was old enough to be shipped off instead of left with a nanny. But the camps were always in the vicinity of Hawkins and generally filled with enough of his classmates that he didn’t have to meet anyone new. Now, he didn’t even have Tommy H. 

This camp was usually reserved for smart kids, like an extra school that you had to live in. All of the pamphlets Steve saw before he left home told him that he didn’t belong there at all. He wondered how much money his dad had to shell out to get him in. 

Of course, there was no price on trying to force Steve’s grades up. His last report card had been the final straw. After all, Steve was starting his first year of high school in the Fall, and his current GPA was ‘unacceptable’. Not that Steve could figure out why this camp would succeed where years of tutors, after school programs, and local camps failed. 

He moved quickly when he saw that their bags were all being left in a pile. An actual pile, not lined up for easy locating. There was already a group of other kids, from eleven to fourteen, crowding around. 

Steve was still scrawny, but he’d shot up the previous summer and managed not to get lost in the crowd. Sure, no one knew what it meant to be at a camp with _Steve Harrington_ , but that didn’t make Steve shy or meek. He elbowed his way through, looking for his L.L.Bean duffle bag. 

“Watch it, shrimp!” 

At first, Steve thought someone was talking to him, but then he saw someone shoving a short blond kid aside. He was a little bit pudgy in a way that reminded Steve of Tommy. But instead of dark coloring and freckles, the kid had bright hair and blue eyes that looked about ready to cry. 

“I want my backpack!” the kid protested, pointing toward the pile. 

Steve looked and saw that there was a scruffy blue pack that didn’t look nearly big enough to fit everything someone would need at an eight week camp. He realized it was sitting next to his own bag, so he tuned out the voices behind him to pick up both. 

“I said move!” The much larger kid had shoved blond-Tommy on the ground. 

“You move, shitbird,” Steve said loudly, getting between them. He may not be the nicest guy in the world, but even he was too good to pick on a little kid. 

The kid shoved him, so Steve shoved back harder, catching him off balance. The growing crowd turned on him for stumbling into them, and Steve took the free moment to offer the bag to blond-Tommy. 

“Here,” he said, automatically softening when he realized there were tears. “You okay?” 

Blond-Tommy sniffed and hastily wiped at his eyes. “Thank you,” he mumbled, getting to his feet. He only reached Steve’s shoulders when he did. 

“No problem. Assholes like that everywhere. We gotta stick together, right?” 

“Right.” Blond-Tommy smiled as he took his backpack, and it completely transformed his face. He had a cute face, looked like he belonged on The Brady Bunch or something. “I’m Billy.” 

“Steve.” Steve was jostled and he huffed. “Wanna go find bunks before we get mobbed?” 

“Okay,” Billy’s smile stayed on his face while they hunted down the best cabin. 

Normally, Steve would have insisted on the top bunk, but something told him Billy needed it. By the time they were settled in, he almost felt like he had a little brother. 

“So where are you from?” Steve asked as he and Billy wandered around the campground, looking for the mess hall. The pamphlet had said for all the campers to meet there for orientation. 

“San Diego.” 

“California?” Steve had thought about the possibility of meeting someone from there. Not that he ever got to visit when his parents went. “You look like you’re from California.” 

Billy blinked at him, “what does that mean?” 

“You know,” Steve pointed to Billy’s hair. Sunbleached, that was the word for it. Steve’s hair was just brown. “ _Californian_.” 

Billy still looked dubious so Steve added, “that’s a good thing.” 

“Oh,” Billy’s smile returned. “Thank you. What about you, where are you from?” 

Wasn’t that a question. Steve swallowed, looking forward toward the mess hall. Hawkins, Indiana wasn’t exactly the first stop on someone’s destination list, but it was nice enough. He’d told himself that he wouldn’t be embarrassed at all to tell someone where he was from. But that was before he met someone from California. 

“I’m from Chicago.” In a way he was. He had been to Chicago, and therefore was always coming from there. Sort of. 

“Cool!” Billy said like he meant it. 

Steve hadn’t guessed Billy’s age, just noticed he was short, so learning he was only a year younger than Steve wasn’t surprising. What did surprise him over the next week was just how incredibly cool Billy was. 

He tagged along with Steve everywhere, practically a sidekick, but he had endless stories of playing baseball, skateboarding, surfing, and even visiting Mexico once. He only talked about it when Steve asked, always with the same bright look like he was simply reminiscing, but it made Steve feel like a bumpkin. 

So he lied about random stories from Chicago, peppering in anecdotes with Tommy and his new girlfriend Carol whenever he could. It was easier to keep stories about them straight. 

The classes were Hell, too. Steve never really felt stupid, since his main problem was everything was so boring and it was kind of hard to focus when he was bored. Being stupid was different than having too much energy and nothing to do with it. 

But all of the exercises and assignments at the camp made him feel...stupid. 

Billy listened sympathetically when Steve complained, and even managed to explain some things in ways Steve could understand. But one thing Steve learned quickly was that Billy was smart. 

Obviously he had to be to go to the camp (unless he was a rich kid like Steve), but he was just so smart. There was a cork board outside of the counselors’ cabin that had “Star Campers” who were doing the best. Something to reward good behavior, but it mostly made everyone super competitive and rude.

Billy was on there every week, and despite having never been a fighter, Steve found himself often defending him from jealous campers. 

“You're probably the smartest kid here,” Steve lamented as they sat on the dock, dipping their feet in the lake. “You actually belong here.” 

“You think?” Billy hummed. He was wearing one of the three shirts he’d brought with him. He had to wash them in the sink of the latrines until the designated laundry days on alternating weeks. “It seems like you belong here more than I do.” 

It was barely dusk, and the crickets and cicadas were screaming around them. It made Billy a little hard to hear when he used his quiet voice. Steve leaned closer, looking at him curiously. 

“Everyone likes you,” Billy sighed, fidgeting with his fingers. “I couldn’t－my family couldn’t even pay the fee for here. I had to get a scholarship.” 

He said it like it was some kind of shameful thing. That baffled Steve. 

“So you’re saying,” he said slowly, trying to work out why Billy was flinching. “You’re so smart you didn’t even have to pay to come here?” 

“I, what?” 

“I don’t even know how much I had to pay to come here!” Steve exclaimed, laughing as he pictured his dad’s face if he knew just how out of Steve’s league the camp was. “You’re so awesome, Billy.” 

Despite a tan, Billy’s ruddy cheeks got even more red. He ducked his head and whispered, “you’re awesome too, Steve.” 

For some reason, that made Steve feel guilty for originally thinking of Billy as blond-Tommy. He was different than Tommy. 

“All the girls like you.” 

The camp celebration of the 4th of July meant a free day. A lot of the older kids took the opportunity to find ‘dates’ to spend the day with. Steve had his pick of the girls back home, and wasn’t particularly interested in wandering around, trying to pretend that anything was romantic. 

Plus, these were all _smart_ girls, who went to a camp because they were so smart. Good for them, obviously, but they weren’t really Steve’s type. Instead, he’d smiled and made up vague excuses before he snuck off with Billy to climb one of the larger rock faces near the water. 

Billy had to borrow a pair of his socks since one of his two pairs got a hole in the toe and heel. Steve didn’t plan to ask for them back. He didn’t ask, because Billy seemed embarrassed, but Steve got the impression that Billy’s family was more lower class than middle class. 

It didn’t matter to Steve. Billy was probably going to be a lawyer or stockbroker, or something else that made a lot of money from being a genius. 

“Yeah,” Steve said absently. There were some ducks in the lake that were chasing each other around; it was weirdly distracting. 

“So why didn’t you go with any of them?” Billy asked. 

Steve shrugged, “I don’t like any of them.” 

About half the ducks flapped their wings and flew a little ways away. It was a little like a math problem. Sort of. Steve couldn’t quite figure out how to add it up. 

“You're with me,” Billy said, so quietly that it almost faded into the background noise in Steve’s mind. 

But he caught it, and he gave Billy a look. “Yeah,” he said slowly, in case Billy was tired and not catching on. He was Steve’s best friend at camp. “I like you.” 

Steve didn’t understand why Billy stared at him like he’d said something shocking. His eyes were so wide that Billy could see the reflection of the first fireworks in them. Steve tilted his head, patiently waiting while Billy sputtered something, not quite finishing any of the words he tried to say. 

“You do?” Billy finally asked over the booming in the sky. 

“Yeah,” Steve grinned. 

“I like you too,” Billy looked at him earnestly. His face was red again. The reflections in his eyes were distracting. Steve wondered if he’d be able to watch the whole display in them. 

Then Billy leaned close, very quickly pressing a dry kiss to Steve’s cheek. And then, just as quickly he leaned back, staring down at his hands. His long eyelashes caught the light, his eyes looked dark. 

Steve’s entire face burned as the meaning of the exchange caught up with him. Oh. 

_Oh_. 

Oooh.

Billy meant like-like. Steve hadn’t meant that, he didn’t think. He spent most of his time with Billy, but at home, he spent most of his time with Tommy. And Carol lately, since she was always around. But that didn’t mean he like-liked either of them. 

Steve tried to picture what that might even be like but it felt too weird. As weird as it would be to picture like-liking Billy. 

The fireworks tinted them white, then blue, then red, and it brought out the red in Billy’s cheeks again. Steve must have moved or made a noise, because Billy looked up at him nervously. The way he did it made his eyes look big. It made the idea feel not so weird. 

If picturing it didn’t feel weird, acting like it probably would. Steve leaned in, so much slower than Billy had, and he purposefully kissed the apple of Billy’s cheek where the blush was the brightest. If his face was hot before, kissing Billy’s cheek must have set him on fire. 

Billy stared at him, touching his cheek where Steve kissed him. And he smiled. Steve smiled back. 

Not weird. Just good. 

Steve started counting down the days after that. He didn’t even have three full weeks to explore the very good and interesting feeling of having a boyfriend. 

Their interactions didn’t really change. They still spent their free time together. 

Steve still leant Billy spare socks and an oversized denim jacket that his mom insisted he would ‘grow into’. Steve wasn’t growing into it anytime soon, and neither was Billy, but at least Billy looked warm. Billy still took the time to explain science and math stuff to Steve, and he never made Steve feel stupid. But then, when they were alone, on the deck or walking through the trees, they would trade kisses on the cheek and hold hands with their fingers laced. 

Tammy T. told him in the seventh grade that fingers laced was for people who were dating. 

Getting dressed in the morning made him feel weirdly giddy, like he wanted to blush and giggle and throw a pillow at Billy. Going to the mess hall became exciting, like they had scheduled dates three times a day, even if their bunkmates sat with them and chatted. But the very best was on July 22nd, when they had the final activity. 

It was a scavenger hunt, and Steve insisted he and Billy could beat everyone by themselves. He dragged Billy off into the woods without a care for searching. 

“It’s our last day,” Steve said when Billy asked him what clue he was looking for. “I’ll be too old for camp next year too.” 

“Yeah,” Billy said, as if the dwindling summer had been weighing on him too. 

Steve led him off the path, down into the rocks and underbrush so they wouldn’t be interrupted. They sat down, safely hidden and Steve twisted up the paper with the starting clue. They could stay in touch, although Steve would have to admit he lied about being from Chicago. They could exchange phone numbers, even if his parents murdered him over the long distance charges. He asked for Billy’s number, but he shook his head. 

“My dad won’t let me use the phone.” Billy mentioned his dad from time to time. Mentioned he was mean, mentioned he was the reason Billy’s mom left. 

Steve did what he always did when Billy started talking about his dad, he took Billy’s hand and kissed his palm. 

“I could give you my address,” Billy said, smiling down at their hands before he plucked the clue sheet out of Steve’s other hand. “We could make up a code in case my dad finds one. I’ll make one up and mail it to you.” 

“If that’s safer…” In the end, Billy not getting in trouble was more important than Steve getting to keep lying. Still, maybe he could make something up about why the return address is from somewhere else. “Give me yours and I’ll send you a postcard. Then you’ll have mine.” 

That would buy him time. Maybe Steve was a genius after all. 

Billy nodded without question. They didn’t have a pen, so they agreed Billy would give Steve his address later before the bus came on Monday morning. 

They huddled together as people walked past them, talking loudly about rings of Saturn, and digits of pie, nerd stuff that Steve didn’t know. 

He wrapped his arm around Billy’s shoulders and sighed. “Maybe I’ll move to California one day,” he said distantly. 

“My dad－”

“I’d move so you could live with me,” Steve shushed him. “Your dad sounds like a jerk, so he won’t be allowed at our house.” 

Billy grinned, “that would be something.” 

As night fell, they returned to camp amidst mockery for not finding any clues. Not that it mattered to Steve, even as Billy handed back the unused clue sheet. The counselors were wandering around with polaroid cameras, taking photos for the kids to take as keepsakes. 

Steve excitedly demanded a picture with his _best friend._ The picture they got was the two of them, leaves in their hair, and Billy still wearing Steve’s oversized denim jacket. Billy snatched it out of his hands, and said he would return it in the morning. 

He did, only it was in a lovingly constructed popsicle stick and pipe cleaner frame. On the back, where the colored sticks made a protective back, was written, Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove 1979. 

They hugged tightly as all the campers’ bags were loaded on their respective buses. Steve charged the same large kid from the first day to make sure no one messed with Billy. A crisp five dollar bill got a businesslike nod. 

“Don’t forget me,” Billy whispered as they pulled away. He dug his hands into the pockets of the denim jacket, rocking on his heels. 

“I won’t,” Steve promised. 

As they were driving away, Steve climbed onto the bus while trying very hard to pretend like he wasn’t about to cry. He dug around in his jeans and pulled out the clue sheet. He took a deep breath, even if they wouldn’t be able to see each other for a while, they still had this. 

Reverently, Steve unfolded the slip of paper and flipped it over without reading the clue. The bottom dropped out of his stomach when didn’t see anything written on the back. It was blank. Completely blank. 

He didn’t understand. It was supposed to have Billy’s address. Billy wanted to stay in touch too, he was supposed to give Steve is address. 

“Are you okay?” a girl in front of him whispered. 

Steve nodded, pressing his lips together. “M’fine,” he said hoarsely. “Little carsick.” 

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe Billy realized before Steve did that two boys weren’t supposed to like-like each other. Either way, Steve made it the entire ride home without crying. He held in the tears all the way up to his room to unpack his bag. They only started to fall when he saw the picture of him and Billy, lovingly tucked away in his bag. 

Steve couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. So he buried it in his sock drawer and tried to forget the worst summer ever. 

Then it all came flooding back in his senior year, at a Halloween party, when a stranger marched across the party to get in his face while he was talking to Nancy. 

Steve stared from behind his Ray-Bans for a split second before Tommy introduced the stranger as the new keg king: Billy Hargrove. 

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help it at the end, I had to. I was physically compelled.
> 
> Edit: Now with beeyootifull art by [granpappy-winchester](https://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/186713064601/for-mustardprecum-and-their-super-adorable)


End file.
